A story:  I recently met a divorced and remarried parent of my son’s friend. We were talking casually, as one does, while waiting for our kids to finish their activities when he impulsively told me that he knew there was someone else out there for me. He said that he understood that I would always treasure my relationship with Ken but that I would meet someone new with whom I could share life’s adventures.

I was … surprised? We don’t know each other well enough for confidences but I could tell that he intended his comment as a reassurance, as if meeting someone was an event “devoutly to be wished.” (That’s a Georgette Heyer quote, in case you don’t recognize it.)  In Terri Irwin’s words, though, “I already had my happily ever after” and so I told him. Honestly, I’m just getting to know this person who lost her life partner and then left her well-paid but abusive job. She’s odd — oh my dog, you have no idea what an odd one she is — and she’s cantankerous but maybe, just maybe, she’s okay.

This week, we’re in earnest preparation for a wedding coming up in our extended family. Honoring personal privacy, I won’t go into details. It’s enough to say that we need dress clothes! We’re really not formal occasion folks (next wedding better be a BBQ!) and the boys have grown so tall that nothing in the closet fits. So, with Ken close to our hearts, we went suit shopping this week. They did not enjoy the trying-on activities but they teased each other mercilessly, as brothers sometimes do.  You had to be there but let’s just say that the Richie Rich jokes flowed like wine.

It was bittersweet, seeing these two boys looking like the man and young man that they are and knowing that Ken (who also passionately hated shopping) would have longed to be part of this particular ritual. A difficult thing about losing one’s life partner is that every event, every rite of passage, every holiday, every vacation is as much about their absence as it is about the occasion itself. The Bride is honoring Ken at the wedding, which is kind, but it’s also wrenchingly painful, a visible reminder of a loss that needs no reminding.

What’s my point, you might fairly ask? I don’t really know. We’re so, so happy for the Happy Couple and at the same time we’re dreading yet another set of pictures that won’t include him.

Tolkien reminds us that life itself is a gift beyond measure and that, as a result, what punishments of gods are not gifts? I think about that a lot. If I could go back in time and know the outcome without being able to change it, would I choose the same path? I answered that question for one of my kids recently. Yes, absolutely, without question, I would do it all again … and maybe that’s my point, after all.

Wishing you joy on a beautiful Fall day.